I saw recently that the last book in A Series of Unfortunate Events will be published this fall (aptly titled The End), which reminded me that I’d never finished listening to the ninth book, The Carnivorous Carnival. Unfortunately, the audiobook didn’t keep my place, and it was easier to check the book out of the library than skim through the audio file to try and figure out where I left off.
This is a Lemony Snicket book, which means that the Baudelaires are resourceful, in peril, and deeply unlucky; the adults are evil or feckless; the situations are ridiculous; and the narrator is morose and digressive. Specifically, the siblings find themselves at Caligari Carnival, where the fortune-teller Madame Lulu has been telling Count Olaf where to find the Baudelaires. The siblings disguise themselves as freaks and join the carnival, hoping to learn where Madame Lulu is getting her information and if one of their parents is really alive. Count Olaf, of course, has other plans, involving some very hungry lions . . .
Other features of this book are: very sarcastic commentary on people whose motto is “give people what they want”; a cliff-hanger; “The Story of Queen Debbie and Her Boyfriend, Tony”; and a digression on miracles and meatballs:
Miracles are like meatballs, because nobody can exactly agree what they are made of, where they come from, or how often they should appear. Some people say that a sunrise is a miracle, because it is somewhat mysterious and often very beautiful, but other people say it is simply a fact of life, because it happens every day and far too early in the morning. Some people say that a telephone is a miracle, because it sometimes seems wondrous that you can talk with somebody who is thousands of miles away, and other people say it is simply a manufactured device fashioned out of metal parts, electronic circuitry, and wires that are very easily cut. And some people say that sneaking out of a hotel is a miracle, particularly if the lobby is swarming with policemen, and other people say it is simply a fact of life, because it happens every day and far too early in the morning. So you might think that there are so many miracles in the world that you can scarcely count them, or that there are so few that they’re scarcely worth mentioning, depending on whether you spend your morning gazing at a beautiful sunset or lowering yourself into a back alley with a rope fashioned out of matching towels.
Like I said, it’s a Lemony Snicket book.